Edwardian
by Eh Bien
Summary: Set between Eclipse and Breaking Dawn. Bella does some reading on the early twentieth century, the time in which Edward grew up, and it leads her to worry he may not find her "ladylike" enough. As close to canon as I can make it.


I placed the stack of books in the Forks public library's Return bin, wondering if I should try to find more of the same. Probably not, I decided. For the past two months or so, I had used my leisure reading time to immerse myself in Edwardian society. Not the actual society of Edward, which was a daily event, but the era in which Edward had grown up. The era which had formed his tastes, attitudes, and overall world view. It was, I had found, a time and way of life almost completely foreign to me.

One book which had disturbed me a little was a feminist analysis of American society in the first two decades of the twentieth century. It had described an existence defined by a romanticized view of life, a strict code of morals and rigid gender roles. It made me wonder, not for the first time, what Edward thought of the times he was living in now. The times that had shaped my world view, that were my own natural habitat.

Most of all, it made me wonder what he thought of _me_. Not that I doubted his love or commitment for a moment, but I was uncomfortably aware of the contrast between myself and the typical Edwardian lady he would have been brought up to appreciate.

I checked my watch: 9:45. It was Saturday, which usually meant a full day with Edward, but he had spent the night hunting with Emmett, and had told me he would probably not be back until mid-morning. I was using the time to get some errands out of the way. From the library, I drove my truck to the grocery store to stock up. I threw some of the weekly staples into the shopping cart without thinking, then paused to consider dinner options. Charlie liked roast chicken, so I selected drumsticks for tonight's meal. Fish from the freezer for tomorrow, I decided, and Monday I'd make chili. Tuesday, I would have to shop again. I gathered the chili ingredients and was going over my mental shopping list when a low, velvet-soft voice spoke a few inches from my ear.

"Bella."

My heart immediately began to beat faster as I turned and looked into his face. "Edward!" I siezed his hand, immediately feeling better, as I always did on reuniting with Edward - as if I'd been holding my breath since yesterday and only noticed the discomfort when it finally went away. "How did you know I was here?"

"I went to the house, and followed you from there."

"Followed...? Oh." Right. By scent. I sometimes forget about Edward's bloodhound-like qualities. Actually, his abilities were considerably beyond those of any real bloodhound. He could replace the entire police canine squad single handedly. "I thought I'd get the shopping done while you were away."

"I'll join you, if I may." He fell into step beside me. "You stopped at the library first." I didn't ask how he knew that. "Anything interesting?"

"Just returning books. Some popular history." I was a little reluctant to discuss the books with him. "And another novel." I had taken Henry James as the illustrator of the era for me, picturing Edward growing up surrounded by characters from James' novels. The female ones were all graceful and genteel, and none of them ever wore anything resembling my weekend ensemble. Now I was moving on to Edith Wharton.

"Which one?"

"House of Mirth."

He nodded appreciatively. "What did you think?"

Distracted by comparing the unit prices of cereal, I answered without internal editing. "Lily Bart goes on my list of characters you have to love and sympathize with, even if they're despicable." I finally chose the generic sugar-free granola and virtuously tossed it into the cart.

"Hm. Is it a long list?"

"Well...Cathy and Heathcliffe, obviously." He smiled in agreement. "Let's see. Shylock. Scarlett O'Hara. Willoughby, from Sense and Sensibility. Emma Bovary. That girl who started all the trouble in The Crucible."

"Abigail Williams."

"That's her. The mother in The Glass Menagerie."

"Amanda."

"Right." I thought of mentioning Mayella, the false rape accuser in To Kill a Mockingbird, and the possible inclusion of Humbert Humbert just because he was so horrible he was fascinating; but I was uneasy mentioning either one of them to Edward.

He noticed my hesitation. "Are you editing again?"

He was getting better at this all the time. "Everybody does that," I said, evading the question. "They just don't usually get away with it with _you_."

He sighed lightly, but I had turned my focus back to shopping. I realized I needed to buy tampons, and waited until he was looking in another direction to grab a package and quickly stuff it underneath the cereal in the cart. From there, we were led directly past the display of condoms and lubricants, and I tried to unobtrusively pick up the pace and avoid looking at the Shelf of Embarrassment. The way he pressed his lips together to keep from smiling told me my efforts had not gone unnoticed. Distracted, I tripped over the perfectly smooth flooring. I felt my face getting hot.

"I think that's everything." I headed for the checkout, where Edward helped me bag the groceries, carry them out and load them into the back of the truck. I looked around the parking lot when he climbed into the passenger seat beside me. "Is your car here?"

"No, I left it at your house and looked for you on foot, so I could ride back with you."

"I approve." I started struggling with the seat belt, losing my grip on it twice before Edward took it from my hands and smoothly clicked it into place.

My heart responded to the casual contact by switching to an _allegro_ tempo. Hearing the rapid beats, he smiled and bent to kiss me on the cheek, running one hand gently through my hair. I immediately turned my head so my lips could meet his, sliding my arms around his neck while vague, pleasing thoughts of stretching out on the truck seat together ran through my mind. From nowhere, those thoughts were replaced by the image of Edward with his Henry James contemporaries. For a moment, I saw myself through their eyes: an unkempt girl in jeans and an Eels tee shirt, sitting in the driver's seat of an old pickup truck and making out with a guy in full public view. It had a chilling effect. Before Edward could make his usual polite withdrawal, I broke the kiss, loosened my grip on him, and turned back toward the windshield. He raised an eyebrow in justifiable surprise - since when did I stop kissing him before I had to? - but I just gave him a quick smile and started the truck.

Edward carried most of the groceries in and helped me put them away. Charlie was working until at least 4:00, so we had the day, and the house, to ourselves until then.

"Anything special planned?" he asked me.

"Not really. In fact - sorry, but I need to do a little housecleaning. I've spent so much time at your house lately, I've been neglecting the chores."

"That's fine. It'll go faster if I help."

I didn't protest, knowing it would be futile. I dusted, mopped, cleaned windows and ran the vacuum cleaner, Edward taking the brunt of the work on himself and finishing each task much more quickly than I ever could have. I even managed to do a load of laundry while he was dealing with the kitchen floor. "There!" I looked around the immaculate living room. "Charlie can have no reason to complain."

"If you have a moment," Edward said, looking apologetic, "Alice asked me to get your opinion on a couple of wedding questions."

I heaved a sigh. "Bring 'em on."

"She was wondering if you had picked your preferred music for the reception.

Apparently she left you some sample CD's?"

"Oh, yes. They're upstairs." I started up the steps, pausing to look out the front window cautiously.

"Charlie's not on his way," Edward told me. "I would hear his car from blocks away." Reassured, I continued up to my bedroom and took out the multiple discs Alice had given me.

"I wrote down the ones I liked, but you should have some input too. More than me, really, since you actually know something about music."

"I'll add my two cents' worth."

"And tell her to forget about playing a tango. That just gives her and Rose a chance to show off in front of the humans. Inconspicuous, remember?"

He laughed. "I'll pass that along as well." He sat down on the edge of the bed, looking through the music list.

I sat beside him. "What kind of dances would they do at a wedding when, well, when my wedding dress was actually the latest fashion?"

He thought a moment. "Waltzes, certainly. The two-step was very popular as well.

Other than that, I'm not sure. There may have been regional differences."

"What's a two-step?"

He stood, pulling me to my feet, and tried to demonstrate. I got my feet tangled trying to follow his quick movements, and when he had to keep me from falling over for the third time, we gave it up.

"I'm such a klutz," I muttered, feeling ungainly.

He chuckled and lifted my chin for a kiss. I automatically responded with my usual enthusiasm, but then the self-consciousness which had taken me earlier returned. I modified the kiss into something less vigorous, and once again broke away before Edward had to forcibly detach me.

I turned back to Alice's music to give myself time to take a couple of deep breaths. Edward sat down on the bed next to me, frowning slightly.

"Bella, are you upset with me?"

I looked up in surprise. "Me? Of course not."

"You're sure?"

"Yes! Why would you think that?"

"You seem a little...distant."

"Distant?" I shook my head. "How?"

He leaned over and tentatively kissed me on the corner of the mouth.

"Oh."

"Yes. Is something bothering you?"

"No. No! I just...I thought you would prefer it that way. I mean, not having to always be the responsible one. And anyway..." The insecurity that had been nagging at me periodically over the past few weeks suddenly hit with more force.

He was waiting for me to finish my sentence. _And anyway_... what? Half the things I feel about you would offend your sense of decency? I want to be the kind of woman you were brought up to admire, and there's no way I can be? I was horrified to find tears coming to my eyes, and I stood up abruptly. "I just thought I _should_," I finished lamely, walking pointlessly to the window and looking out.

I didn't hear him coming up behind me, but felt his hand touch my shoulder lightly. "Bella, obviously something is troubling you. Please tell me."

"It's nothing, Edward. Really."

"Clearly it is _not_ nothing." I shook my head, wishing I had a better poker face. He lowered his voice to a gentle murmur. "Bella, love, we're going to be married before long. That means sharing each other's troubles."

That choked me up a bit, I have to admit, even if it wasn't the way I was raised to think of marriage. "It's nothing important, honestly. It's just those stupid books." He frowned in confusion. I sighed. "I've been reading about the early twentieth century."

"Oh?" He still looked puzzled.

"The period from about 1901 to 1918." He waited. "I wanted to be more familiar with the period of time that, you might say, formed you."

He gave me a little smile. "That's sweet, Bella. But why would it upset you so much?"

"It's hard to explain." Quite the understatement. I looked back out the window. "There's such a contrast between people... no, between _women_ of that time and...the way I am." I burst out abruptly, "I just don't want you to think badly of me."

"Bella! What on earth would make me think badly of you?" When I didn't answer, he led me to the rocking chair, sat down in it, and pulled me into his lap. I let myself be gathered up in his arms, my head against his shoulder. "Now, tell me what's going on. What's so different about the women of that time?"

"Well...they were expected to have certain qualities. Nice women, anyway. There were standards they had to maintain in order to be seen as real ladies, you know?"

He considered that. "Are we talking about clothing here?"

"What?"

"Because, truly, I have _no_ aversion to blue jeans. Just because Alice..."

"No, I'm not talking about clothes! I'm talking about..." Gah! He was really going to make me explain. I hid my face against his chest. "I'm talking about the way I act with you. You know. When we're...alone, together."

"Ah!"

I kept my face hidden against his shirt, sure I was turning red.

He touched my cheek. "So your position is that a...passionate nature is inherently unfeminine?"

I frowned. "Well, no. Not _my_ position, really. But I assume that you..."

"Why would you assume_ I_ feel that way? Have I ever suggested anything of the kind? Told you I found you inappropriate?"

"No. Not in so many words. But then, you probably wouldn't."

"Because of my perfect manners?" he teased.

"But you disapprove of...being together before marriage."

"Yes, that's true. We disagreed on that particular matter. If I recall, you agreed to accept my interpretation as possible, and err on the side of caution."

I had, in fact. If Edward felt so strongly that saving it for the wedding night was a virtuous act, I was willing to go along. Well, maybe 'willing' wasn't the right word, but it was a compromise I had agreed to for his sake.

"So," he continued, "we are _not_, in fact, 'being together' before the wedding. What would I have to disapprove of?"

"You know what I'm talking about," I muttered, embarrassed.

"You are entirely mistaken. I don't have the faintest idea."

"I don't _want_ to wait. I _like_ it. You know how I always try to push things." I broke off. My face was probably the colour of a ripe tomato. "I know that in your time, it was a bad thing for a woman to be interested in...that stuff." My feminist social historian had made that much clear.

"Was it?" He sounded amused. I looked up at him in surprise. "Bella, I'm not sure what you've been reading, but you should probably have taken it with a grain of salt. Or two."

I gave him a skeptical look.

"Would you be interested in hearing a little about history from _my_ perspective?" I nodded, slightly intrigued.

He thought a moment, swaying the rocking chair. "You were right in thinking that the time I lived in formed me, as you say. My tastes and basic attitudes were established then, and when Carlisle transformed me, they were more or less frozen in place. Only meeting you was powerful enough to cause a significant change." He smiled down at me. "But only the essentials, the raw material, remained the same. For example, I would always love music, but exactly _which_ music I listen to and enjoy continues to change over time. Fortunately. Similarly, I was not stuck maintaining the same scientific principles I had learned as a boy; I could absorb new ideas, and change my opinions accordingly, even making a complete paradigm shift when necessary."

I frowned a little. This did not seem to relate to what we had been talking about. He appeared to understand my reaction. "The same principle applies to social attitudes and moral standards. Existing as long as I have, and dealing with others who have lived even longer, I've learned to adapt to different ways of looking at these things. Even more, to understand the difference between morality and mere social custom." He grinned to himself. "Dealing with Carlisle has been educational. He's from a much earlier time, and the difference in world view can be jarring. He was brought up by a very devout, rather puritanical father; yet Carlisle's seventeenth century perspective on certain things shocked me at first. Their approach to human nature could be a little...earthy."

"What kinds of things?"

"Well...transvestitism, to name one of the less crude examples." My eyebrows shot up. "Female roles on stage were still played by men in his day. Some of the actors enjoyed, er, retaining their costumes off stage as well. Carlisle couldn't understand why I found that scandalous."

"I see." This discussion was taking a fascinating turn.

"For the record, I don't have an issue with it any longer. It was one of those things I had to accept as a cultural practice, changing over time, rather than a moral absolute."

"Were there a lot of things like that?"

"Too many to name. Social customs change constantly. I can usually adjust as easily as I adjust to changes in fashion. Some I find more difficult than others. I still have a hard time with strangers calling each other by their given names, for example."

"Okay. I see what you're saying. But aren't attitudes to women a little more ingrained?"

"They might be. But are you sure you know what attitudes toward women I was taught?"

"Um...no." I looked up at him curiously.

"The time I lived in might seem fairly repressive, my modern standards, but it was a volatile period. The goal of racial equality was just starting to be taken seriously, for example. Significant change was taking place on many fronts. You realize the women's suffrage movement had reached its height when I was in my teens?"

"I heard a little about that."

"Middle- and upper-class ladies were performing acts of violence and vandalism in an effort to get their point across. Throwing acid was a favourite device of the radical fringe."

"Yikes!"

"Yes. The majority were more law abiding. However, I grew up hearing about them. My mother supported the cause."

"She was one of those...?"

"Oh, no. She was never openly involved in politics. Mother was outwardly very decorous. But she was in favour of universal suffrage on principle."

"Interesting." I was riveted by this glimpse into Edward's early life.

"It was a constant issue in the news. Women would be arrested for marching, legally I might add, in public demonstrations. They would be mistreated abominably, while anti-suffrage officials looked the other way. Opposition to their cause was strong, but some of us saw them as heroines in the cause of justice. They were admirable women, but they were nothing like the ladies in a romantic novel of the era."

"Um, point taken." I paused to process what he was telling me. "Did your father object to your mother's politics?"

"No, they were in agreement."

"Really?"

"Most men at the time opposed votes for women, but by no means all. Edward Senior was even a member of the Union League Club of Chicago."

"Should I know what that is?"

He chuckled. "No. It was a local association that supported voting rights, among other things. An association of wealthy, white, male professionals, granted, and rather out of touch with the disenfranchised people they claimed to champion, but their hearts were in the right place."

"Somehow, I had the idea your parents were very conservative."

"I suppose they were, in a way. They were very conventional in their private lives. Mother was a formidable woman, but she followed the rules of feminine behavior as if they were inscribed on stone tablets. And my father, although he was a supporter of women's rights by 1918 standards, liked his home life to be strictly traditional. He was clearly understood to be head of the household."

"That sounds very inconsistent."

"I think most people are inconsistent that way, even today. It's just human nature. Does everyone's private life coincide perfectly with their political views?"

"I'm not sure."

"Well, what about you? A strident feminist..." I rolled my eyes, and he grinned. "...yet content to be handed all the domestic chores in your father's household, purely on the basis of your sex."

That startled me. "I never thought of it that way." He rocked me a while, and I let myself be soothed as I thought over what he'd said. "I suppose I get your point. Several points."

"Good. But we still haven't covered the central issue."

"Which is?"

"Sex."

_Sex_? Well, I had brought this on myself.

He looked at me and laughed. "You should see your expression."

"No, I shouldn't," I muttered.

"Are you going to have as much trouble talking about..._that,_ once we're married?"

"I'm not sure."

"It's not that easy for me either, Bella. And you're supposed to be the modern, liberated party here. I'm the repressed, benighted relic of the Dark Ages, remember?"

"I didn't say that."

He grinned at me, then seemed to pause and collect his thoughts. "I know what you were referring to earlier. This idea that women, or as you put it, _nice_ women, were supposed to be beyond the reach of certain feelings. The thing is, every age has concepts which are held in a theoretical way, but which practically nobody really believes."

"_Nobody_ believed that?" I asked suspiciously.

"Maybe a few of the more naive, if they had little knowledge of real women, and if they were not too familiar with any Western literature prior to the reign of Victoria. It's hard to say, though. In the time before Kinsey, this was a subject that was very much under the radar. Discussions of it were generally kept behind closed doors." He paused again a moment. "Memories of my family are unclear, but I recall a little bit of my father's private talk with me."

My eyes popped open. "You mean, like the talk Charlie tried to have with me?"

"Something like that," he said, trying not to laugh. "But the approach was a little different. A young woman in the neighbourhood had been sent out of town for a while." I looked at him, confused. "That was the common euphemism for an unmarried woman becoming pregnant. Frequently, she would be sent away 'for a visit with relatives' or some such, have the baby, and return as if nothing had happened."

"Wow!"

"It was meant to be compassionate," he explained. "A way of sparing her the shame of unwed motherhood. In any case, my father took me aside and explained, in strictest confidence, the reason the girl had left. I must have been about sixteen at the time, and it made me feel very adult." He stared into space a moment, apparently trying to remember. "I don't recall the details, but he told me that, now that I was nearly a man, I should realize I had a responsibility not to put another girl through that pain and humiliation. He said I was old enough now to understand a man's duty to, as he put it, protect women from my own baser impulses, _and from theirs_. I had only a vague idea what he was talking about, and he did not explain in any further detail. That was the extent of my human education on the subject." He went on before I could comment, "You see, chastity before marriage was considered very important, for both men _and_ women."

"Uh huh," i remarked sourly.

He laughed. "I know, there was a truly shocking double standard in place, but not all men subscribed to it. Decent men, in my opinion, did not. My late father did not. You know for a fact that_ I_ don't."

I couldn't disagree with that.

"There may have been a sentimental notion that women were, by nature, less carnal than men, or at least more devoted to propriety. All the same, to get back to your original point," he looked at me, and I braced myself, "even a man of my time who took this idealistic view of women, when he married, would certainly hope that his wife would find _him_ desirable, would take pleasure in the, er, marital union."

I might usually have found expressions like _marital union_ silly, but at the moment I appreciated his indirectness. It made this whole conversation less uncomfortable.

"Whatever polite social fiction was officially accepted, people understood the reality, and it was considered basically a good thing. It came out in trivial ways, like jokes and wedding customs." He looked down at me. "You do see what I'm getting at?"

I nodded, managing to meet his eyes. "I suppose so."

His expression became slightly amused. "To be fair, a scrupulous gentleman of that era would have been asking a lot of a wife. Asking for something totally unreasonable, in fact. He would hope for a woman who was decent, modest, and irreproachably virginal until the day they had met; yet at the same time, a woman who gave every hope of becoming an ardent, enthusiastic lover to him once they were married." He shook his head. "Not asking much, was he?"

"That does seem a bit unreasonable," I agreed, wondering what his point was.

"Yes, it does." He grinned at me as if I'd fallen into a verbal trap. "And yet, amazingly enough, I have found _myself_ the undeserving recipient of that very rare gift."

I sat a moment, turning various shades of red.

"I've always said you do not see yourself clearly. Ironically, you are the embodiment of the ideal woman of my youth."

"Oh, come on!"

"I'm not exaggerating. You are lovely, without being vain. Intelligent, brave, and dedicated to the well being of others, like the best women of the era. Affectionate and generous to your family and friends. Sweetly, richly feminine, without being frivolous. Capable of both intense love and great passion, yet virtuous and modest." He nudged my nose with his. "You are the very woman I would have wanted if I had continue to live my original life, and that has not changed. You may never be able to see yourself this way, but I swear every word I say is true."

He pulled me closer, allowing me to hide my face against his shirt again. "And, Bella? Whatever some book may have suggested to you, you _must_ be aware of how much your...reactions please me. Can you really believe that when I kiss you and your heart races, when you seem to forget everything but my touch - can you believe that I respond mainly with _disapproval_?"

"You seem to, sometimes," I ventured. "A little angry, even."

"Hm. Considering that you figured out so early the link between hunger - or rather, thirst - and my crabbiness, as you called it, I'm surprised you weren't able to draw the same connection between 'crabbiness' and...other kinds of hunger."

"Oh."

"But I'm sorry if I became sharp with you."

"It's okay."

"Please be clear. I don't, in even the minutest degree, disapprove of your feelings toward me, Bella. I have never wished you were more reserved, colder, more conventionally proper. I'm sometimes overwhelmed by the temptation you present me with, that's all. In fact, with the wedding only weeks away, my reaction is mainly one of...joyful anticipation."

I blushed, but actually felt much better. This talk had been _so_ worth the embarrassment.

His fingers brushed my reddened cheek. "With that in mind, maybe you would allow a request?"

"Of course." This could be interesting.

"Since we have agreed to wait for the wedding day..." He waited for me to acknowledge that agreement with a nod. "...and since we can now, perhaps, allow, without any undue awkwardness, that the wait is difficult for us _both_..."

Again he paused for my confirmation. "The last couple of weeks have been rough," I sighed, biting my lip.

"For me, also. And not likely to get easier." I sighed again, and he chuckled and kissed my forehead. "In that case, maybe I can ask _you_ to share _my_ troubles."

"How do you mean?"

"I will admit that I sometimes try to deliberately elicit a response from you, just for the pleasure of hearing your heart race for me." My heart immediately took the hint, and he smiled as he heard it speed up. "I will do my best to avoid that rather selfish behaviour for the next few weeks. In return, I would ask that you try to make this long, long wait as easy on _me_ as possible."

"Keep my hands to myself?"

"Exactly."

"I'm not going to swear to it, since I might, well, occasionally break my word. But I _will_ promise to do my very best."

"Thank you," he said solemnly. "And I promise the same."

"Thank you," i replied, spoiling the effect by giggling.

"Then until the wedding, we will be very cool and indifferent to each other. "

"Right. All the while seething with passion under the surface."

"Precisely. _Now_ you are learning to become a real Edwardian lady."


End file.
